I’ve only known how to speak one language. Everyone knows language is made up of words and words have meaning whether you ‘sound out’ words or your hands create words.

My brother shared how he was once asked to prepare a speech on words. He said he considered this assignment difficult because he couldn’t think of what to say. I thought about this and decided what speech I would have prepared. I would have said words are everything. I can not imagine a world without them. Words convey love, encouragement, sympathy, hope, well wishing, congratulations, comfort, and trust – not only to humans, but animals as well. Words convey information as well as urgency sometimes. We are taught to ‘choose our words wisely.’ Not only the ‘words’ we say are meaningful, but how we say them is meaningful. On many occasions, I have called friends just to hear the sounds of words because it made me feel connected and comforted.

Much of my life revolves around animals, so I consider how words apply to these speechless creatures. When training horses, we use ‘aides’ to train and direct them. Aides include hands on the reins to communicate to the horse, legs on their sides- also to communicate, shifting weight sends messages, and sometimes an artificial aide-such as a crop or spurs is used.

An additional aide I rely on is my voice. Tone and words convey messages to horses as well as most animals. Horses are smart and able to learn words such as trot, canter, walk, and ‘ho’ for stop. This is apparent when instructors ask riders to command the horse, and, at the words of the instructor, the horse obeys before the rider executes the request. Some instructors change the words for basic commands to avoid this, but smart horses learn the new words as well.

One day, my pacer – Mattie – and I were jogging when she kicked up at a fly. When her leg came down, she straddled the shaft. ‘Oh no,” I thought. I asked her to stop on the track. I talked to her as she allowed me to remove her harness, free her from the cart, move her leg over the lowered shaft, put her harness back on, reattach the cart to the harness, and jump back onto the jog cart to continue jogging. She calmly obeyed even though other horses jogged by her. This is amazing trust because racing horses are often excited to race when around other horses. Mattie stood with me quietly and calmly as I talked to her and asked her to stand still. She knew my voice and we safely corrected a potentially disastrous situation.

Words. I make sure I use them to communicate the pets in my life, but also to tell people I love and appreciate how much I do. I want them to hear the words I hold in my heart for them as well as show them every time I am able.

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Reputation is a everything. Being trusted and thought to be a person of integrity is valuable to me. For the most part, I have a good reputation and enjoy being a ‘good girl.’

My brother and I share a special relationship. Through many years of ups and downs, we became friends as well as siblings. I admire him. He is fearless. He shared the stories of his life with me – being in the DMZ in Korea, finding love and new challenges in employment, adventures on the rivers and the ocean, friends in his life, swimming with whales and many, many other stories of a life fully lived.

He and our mother spent years kayaking the springs in Florida where gators lurk on any given part. He was a genius- and I am not just saying that because he was my brother . He played Jeopardy with great success from his seat in the living room and won every game of Trivia. He had a photographic memory and recalled information instantly when things prompted him. If I had a million pages, I could fill them all with all the reasons my brother was the greatest person I knew and how deeply I loved him.  He wanted the best for me.  We walked many years together sharing our memories and making new memories each day. I would bet everyone out there in cyber world has someone they love the way I love my brother. Sometimes our conversation drifted to God. He occasionally quoted John 3.16. He said,  “That’s what it’s all about.” I agreed.

Recently, I experienced the saddest day of my life. We lost my brother after many years of illness. Hearts are broken and his is missed. Knowing his struggles are over and he is happy and well now does not always comfort, however, some comfort did come.  When sorting through his belongings, I found a cross stitch I forgot I sewed for him many years ago. The cross stitch was the Bible verse- John 3.16. I believe the message of the Bible is summed up from cover to cover in this one verse.

I personalized the words n the cross stitch- which were “For God so loved (my brother), He gave His Only Son, so (my brother) would never perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3.16. I may have forgotten sewing and sending this little message to him, but he did not. It comforted my heart that it had touched him so that he quoted it occasionally and now the truth of the words has come to him. He is in heaven and with the God I love and believe to be the Creator of the universe and everyone it in. I know my brother wants to see everyone decide to believe Jesus came so they never perish but have everlasting life. God Bless all of you.

If I never see you here, I pray to see you there.

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Recently I heard a darling story about an Otterhound pup. This is a breed of dog I never knew was a breed. I understand it is a rare English breed and there are only 6-800 dogs in existence. They are lovely and bred for scent abilities.

The breeders of this pup live in Florida and had a very long check list for potential new owners. When a single mother with children arrived to consider this little girl, the breeders had decided they did not want to sell  the pup to them until they noticed her one son with the pup.

The boy sat right next to the pup and said, “I am soooo thirsty, you must be thirsty too.” He proceeded to retrieve a bowl of water and let the pup drink first – then -without any apparent adult intervention –  he drank the remaining water from the bowl. The breeders were slightly stunned, but the sight of the boy with the pup was so heartwarming they allowed the mother to purchase the pup.

The family and pup relocated to Maine – of all places- at least it wasn’t Washington State.  When the mother found housing, she and her children settled in and the housing development told her she was not permitted to keep the dog. Instead of calling the breeder in Florida, she took the pup to a local shelter. Luckily, the employees scanned the pet and found the microchip identifying the breeders. When they were contacted, the breeders let the shelter know they would come to get the pup.

The gentleman I met shared how he traveled 2 1/2 days to Maine – in the Spring- through inclement weather – and finally arrived in almost the most north eastern part of the State. He was greeted by a very happy dog- a dog giving kisses, hugs, and jumping and spinning. The shelter was convinced this dog knew him.

The two of them headed back home to Florida. It was another 2 1/2 days of travel and the owner stayed in rest areas to sleep because the pet became so distressed if he tried to leave her in the car alone. Such a sacrifice- everyone is reunited and the pet is happy, cared for, and home.

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When we were young, my friends and I always had great fun playing games like Monopoly. We invented rules that didn’t quite match the rules that came with the game- like  awarding $400.00 for landing on the GO square, getting all the money in the center (the kitty) when landing on free parking , building on personally owned properties when ALL the color was sold- despite not being the one that owned them all, and other home spun rules.

This is probably not a blog that persons committed to following all the rules to a tee will appreciate- fair warning! In my world, rules have been bent.

When I met my step daughter, she was young and her parents divorced when she was even younger – about 5 years old. This was a critical developmental age and she fell behind in her school work -such as learning to read and developing her math skills as well as other educational tasks.

So, to help her, I used the games and story books to catch her up on her schooling. We had fun and she was easily engaged in learning without being aware of my intentions. Since she was unable to read, and loved picture books, we went to library and checked out 35 picture books- the maximum allowed. I read the books  to her each night. She thought she was tricking me into letting her stay up later and I was really tricking her into learning to read. Eventually, she began reading words and pages herself and then advanced to young chapter books. Eventually she excelled at reading.

For spelling, we played Scrabble. I told her all she needed to do was make words. As long as she created a word, she could place it anywhere on the board. I never mentioned the need to attach her word to any other word or letter on the board. At first she had some unusual spellings for words – which I ignored, but as time went on, she became more and more accurate with her spelling.

Monopoly was a great game for learning to count and handle money, building on properties, winning, and more. She loved it and we played by the rules my friends and I played by when I was a little girl. She learned quickly. I must admit I made it easy as she won all the time and learned to count money in a non stressful way. She enjoyed calculating the money for houses and then a hotel on the properties she owned.

Then, a kind of funny thing happened -something I never anticipated. One day she stepped out of our little world and went to her cousin’s home where they decided to play monopoly. She called me hysterical that her cousin did not play the game correctly. She explained all the rules her cousin was trying to make her play by. I thought, ‘oh no, I am not there to protect her.’ I told her some people don’t know the rules and play some other way. I did not mention we were the ones who did not play by the correct rules. I told her not to worry, forgive her cousin, and suggested they play with their dolls. Crisis averted.

I’m not certain if she ever realized I tricked her for her own good and I never anticipated she would encounter someone who would shatter her innocent approach to game playing, but somehow we got through it all.

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As a younger girl, I pursued education – which meant I had a meager budget. I usually attended classes in T-shirts and blue jeans but, like most girls, I loved pretty clothes.

I rode the bus from my grandfather’s home to the Square in downtown Cleveland every day for school. When I arrived at the Square, there were department stores like ones in the movies – ones with many floors and counters lined with jewelry and perfumes and gloves and matching scarves that were soft and beautiful. I am convinced I was the best window shopper ever.

I walked around the cases admiring all the new accessories. Then, I rode the escalator to shopper’s heaven- to the floors with rack after rack of shorts and matching tops, skirts, and blouses, and all the pretty clothes one could imagine.

I picked several outfits and spent time in the dressing room trying on these beautiful clothes I knew I would never buy. I modeled them in the mirror and, for a moment, I was wearing something pretty. After a time daydreaming and admiring, I donned my T-shirt and blue jeans and returned the clothes to the rack. The salesladies smiled and nicely asked if I wanted to buy anything. I smiled back and said, “I am going to think about it some more, thanks.” I suspected they knew.

Then I walked 20 blocks, attended class, walked back to the bus, and rode back to my grandfather’s home- remembering my wonderful time window shopping- which I did frequently.

I still love pretty things, but have realized I want the inside of me to be more lovely than the outside and really have no extra money for extravagant things. That’s ok. I have a wonderful country to enjoy that allows me beautiful adventures every day and family and friends that mean everything to me. I have made the choice to make the people in my life my priority and have no regrets. I still see the pretty clothes and think of my days shopping, but more and more the clothes mean less and less and the people mean more and more.

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I recently accepted employment at a private practice where I met Singe. At first I thought he was some fancy purebred cat – with small ears and different coloring around his eyes. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Singe is a mutt- a plain old alley cat. But he has a story.

Singe was a man of the streets. He had to hunt his own food, find shelter in the very hot, humid temperatures of Florida as well as the torrential rains that occur daily in the summer time. He had to hide from others who could hurt him with no one there to help with his medical needs or care about him in any way. All that was about to change.

During a localized fire in the brush of Florida, the responding firemen found a black and white cat under a bush. His little ears were burned and his facial hair singed. The pads of his paws were injured from the fire and he was frightened. The only home he knew in the forest was on fire and he didn’t know what to do.

The firemen knew what to do. They scooped him up and took him to the veterinary clinic he now calls his home. He was nursed to health by the veterinarians and technicians working there. They treated his burns and cared for him until he healed. Now, he no longer has to go farther the next room for a meal, everyone there loves him and meets all his physical and medical needs, massages him with special made tools to do so, and allows him to think he owns the place.

Singe bears all the scars that serve as reminders that there are wonderful and caring people in the world who take time to rescue little animals from danger so they can have a story to tell everyone. Singe is a testament to the spirit of survival and healing and the will and desire to live – even after it looked like everything was lost. His tragedy turned to triumph for this little overweight pampered cat called Singe.

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A friend brought me a pair of black ducks he said were Muscovy ducks, but I am not certain if that was true. They were lovely and, when the sun shone on their black feathers, the blue, green and purple colors glistened through.

The black male and female ducks were an inseparable couple. One sad day, however, I lost the female. After losing his mate, he tagged along with my white ducks until, one by one, I lost all of them as well.

Occasionally, I spotted him lying next to the dogs and even the cats just to be near someone, something. They tolerated him well. His apparent loneliness broke my heart so, since he was desperate for a friend, I decided he needed a duck pal. A close friend had many ducks and was glad to give me another white duck. He rode in a large cage in the back of my truck and, when I arrived back at the farm, I introduced him to my black duck – who happened to be waiting by the truck. They were instant friends.

Black and White did everything together- including getting into trouble together. When I couldn’t find them, I headed down our 500 foot long driveway, crossed the busy street we lived on, and snuck through the neighbor’s yard to find my two ducks taking a dip in the neighbor’s pond. I herded them back where they belonged- out of the pond, through the neighbor’s yard, waddling across the road, down the driveway, back to the safety of our barn. Thankfully, the neighbors never seemed to mind my coming to their yard to fetch them.

Since we lived in coyote country, I never left the ducks out at night time. Each night I called the boys. They quacked and waddled themselves into the barn into a stall opened for them. I closed them in for safety each night and they knew the routine.

Sadly, the white duck passed. It was so heartbreaking for me to lose another pet I was unable to remove his body from the corner of the stall he was in when he passed. For days the black duck went into the stall, sat next to him, and stared at him. He seemed confused as to why his friend no longer came with him to eat bugs and walk around our farm. He made his soft ‘quacking’ sounds and seemed to say, “Are we going to play? Why aren’t you coming?”

Eventually I removed the white duck’s body and found him anther friend- this time a chicken. The two of them were best friends and each day they came into the apartment in the barn, ate the dogs’ food, and then went back out to roam the yard.

I have such sweet memories of friendship and love between some silly ducks and chickens I had the pleasure of having as pets.

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Millie was Angel’s baby. Angel was no angel, but, her terrific breeding made her a great race horse. Millie inherited her mom’s sour disposition, but she also inherited her racing talent. To help her be manageable, I spent time handling her and playing with her beginning after her birth.

Since mother horses can be protective and dangerous, I tied Angel when I entered her stall to play with Millie. Then, I chased Millie around the stall and under her mother until I caught her. Daily I rubbed her entire body, picked up her feet and tapped her hooves, and held her to train her to stop struggling. In preparation for placing a harness on her, I lifted her tail and placed my arm under it where the tail piece of the harness sits. I brushed her and played with her- always talking to her. After a while, she trusted me. Even the toughest girls can be won over by love and patience.

When Millie was a yearling, it was time to train her to the equipment so she could train and race. My partner made the first attempt at putting a harness on her. Millie exploded and kicked at him. I took the harness, walked up to her, and put it on her – the tail piece as well as the girth around her belly and the chest pieces. She never fussed for me. I think it was because I was her human mommy and the trust that developed between us was a great asset.

Millie did everything I asked her to. She broke to the equipment and cart with ease. She trained well and raced like the wind. One day she  became ill with a condition I never saw before and still don’t know what it was. She may have been poisoned by something she ate. I am not certain. She seemed to have pain in her abdomen like a horse with colic, but all the horses I treated for this improved in a day or so. It took five days for Millie to recover. She wanted to lay down and roll and I couldn’t let her because when horses roll, they are in danger of twisting their intestines. If she twisted her intestines, she would not survive and surgery to untwist them was not an option for us.

I watched her day and night for five long days. When she was quiet and resting peacefully in her stall, I wrapped her lead rope around my leg and slept for short periods on the floor of the barn outside her stall. I did this so when she began to thrash, she pulled the rope around my leg, waking me. When she was restless, I kept her on her feet -which can be challenging with a 1,100 pound animal, medicated her for pain, and walked her for hours. After those five tortuous days Millie and I weathered together, thankfully she recovered and raced for many years.

I once thought horses did not form bonds with their humans like dogs and cats, but one night, when I arrived home from work, I turned on the lights in the barn and discovered Millie and another horse opened their stall doors and were loose. This is a concern because horses can be injured or killed on roads if hit by cars or trucks. As I entered the barn, Millie and the other horse casually walked into the back door of the barn and came to me like little puppies as if to ask, “Where you been, mom?” I patted their necks and returned them to their stalls – safe and sound. My trainer once told me the horse knows the person who feeds them and the person who plays with them. I was both and they were my girls.

My horses were my pets first and my racing girls second.

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